Free Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles) by Rue Allyn Page B

you summon him. I’ve something I wish to ask you.”
    Henry nodded. “What is it you wish to know?”
    “What do you know of my wife and how she came to have that limp?”
    “You dinna know?”
    “Nae, it happened after I left home.”
    The boy’s gaze shuttered. “Promise you’ll no hit me if you don’t like the answer?”
    “I dinna hit people for answering questions truthfully.” Why would this boy think he would receive violence as a reward for doing as asked? Colin’s father could have inspired such a fear, but from what Colin knew, the boy had been little more than a babe when the old earl died.
    “Then I’ll tell you what I know. I was very little when it happened, but I’ve heard about it all my life. She’s been like that since. . . ”
    “Henry, ’tis time to let my husband rest.” Sorcha’s voice came from the small alcove near the door.
    Colin hadna heard the door open. How long had Sorcha been in the room? Fixing his gaze with Henry’s, Colin put a finger in front of his lips and shook his head slowly.
    Henry nodded and smiled. “Are you sure?” he whined convincingly. “We’ve been having such a good chat.”
    Sorcha came into view.
    “You may come back later, after the earl has rested.” She spoke to the boy but glared at Colin.
    Henry gave in graciously, bowed, and left with Sir Broc behind bearing the tray. That conversation had been promising. Too bad Sorcha had returned before the confidences so carefully cultivated bore fruit. He raised his gaze to her face and nearly quailed at the anger burning in her eyes.
    He supposed he deserved her ire. She had specifically asked him to drop the subject of her injury. But he could nae respect that request. Nae if the answers impacted his mission. She would have to learn that where his home and Scotland were concerned, she had no secrets.

CHAPTER SIX
    “You expect me to trust you to act the part of my husband without molesting me. You expect me to lie and deceive simply to catch some imaginary spies. Yet, you’ll nae respect my privacy. ’Tis exactly like you. Why I’m surprised, shocked, and deeply offended, I dinna know.”
    She dropped a loaded tray near him on the table where the remains of his breakfast had been moments ago.
    Yes, she’s angry
. Colin took in her clipped tone, her high color, and the tightness in her posture. “You’ve every right to be upset,
muirnean
.”
    “I’m much more than upset, you
bleigeard
.” She took the poker from the fireside and lifted it as she approached him.
    He swallowed.
I should move
.
    Before he could put thought to deed, the poker descended, missed his head by a hair, and landed in the bowl of cider, causing it to boil and spit. A fiery rain landed on his bare arm, and the scent of spiced apples filled the room. He sucked in air then hissed away the small pain as he watched her replace the poker beside the hearth—an innocent smile fixed on her face.
    His eyelids narrowed. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
    “Of course.” She spoke in a low and soothing tone while dipping a ladle into the hot cider and filling a cup then presenting it to him. “Cider, my lord. ’Tis very healthful.”
    He took the cup, sniffed the aromatic liquid, gave her a suspicious glance then downed the drink in one gulp.
    When he looked at her again, she was still smiling, and her hands were folded before her. She was the very picture of maidenly serenity—something the Sorcha he’d grown up with had never been.
    “You’re up to something.”
    She raised a brow then swept up her sewing and took her usual seat by the hearth.
    “Tell me what you are plotting,” he demanded.
    She cast him a glance and shrugged, then bent to her stitches. “Nothing more than to teach you that trust works in both directions. As things stand, I canna trust you, and you dare nae trust me.”
    “I trust you.”
    She tilted her head to look at him. “Nae, you dinna. You believed I would harm you with that poker. I saw